January 2nd
It had been a relaxing week of rest, for the elves and Stanta Claus, who had spent much of the week in bed with John, as the chubby, cubby slut he’d become at the moment. The mirror pendant was capable of changing someone’s mental and physical form, but it needed time to recharge between each use–anywhere from several days, to even weeks–and John had resigned himself to the fact that, for the time being, he was stuck as a horny, desperate cub, his holes aching for cock at all hours of the day–and Stanta was all too happy to keep him satisfied, even though he told him, regularly, that while he enjoyed John’s slutty ways, this wasn’t a man he could love.
Still, it was time to get back to work. The elves were back in the workshop, toying around with old projects, putting together research and development groups, planning for next year’s logistics and reexamining last year’s weak points and production gaps. From January to March, little was done in the way of actual production–this was the chance for the elves and Stanta to plan for the coming year–and Stanta, in particular, needed to get caught up on the details of his new position, and that meant he needed a grand tour, which Timmy was providing. The two of them were up on the catwalks overseeing the workshop, and Timmy was discussing Stanta’s role as director–his primary duty being to construct the list of deliveries for the next year–while the head elf generally took on the position of production overseer–but Stanta wasn’t really paying close attention. Instead, he found himself focusing on the elves below.
Their looks up at him were often. He made them nervous, that much was clear. It was understandable, he supposed–even Stanta found his new appearance disturbing when he caught a glance of himself in a mirror, and didn’t expect it. Still, there was something else in the air as well, hanging over the entire place like a fog–more than unease, there was deception here, he could sense it. He caught more than one elf glancing at him and Timmy, and then at a door along the far wall–a door with a sizable padlock, and no handle. A door which, he wasn’t even sure he was “supposed” to have noticed. It was along the wall with several other private workshops for various elves in managerial roles, like Timmy, but it had no name hung on the front like the others. “Whose workshop is that?” he asked, interrupting Timmy’s monologue, and he pointed to the locked door.
“That’s not a workshop–it’s just storage,” Timmy said, but while it wasn’t a lie–Stanta had found his capacity for catching falsehoods to have skyrocketed with his new position–he could tell from Timmy’s sudden nervous glance that it wasn’t the entire truth.
“What are you storing inside? It seems odd that you’d have a room for storage in line with all the other workshops on that wall, don’t you think? I’d like to have a look.”
Without waiting for a reply, Stanta dropped down from the catwalks and crossed the floor of the workshop, Timmy racing after him, trying to divert his attention with excuses. The work on the floor had ceased–further confirming his suspicions. Still, Timmy wasn’t worried. That lock was his own design–no one could open it without the key–but Stanta held it in his hand, gave a light tug, and the padlock popped open without the slightest protest. The elves all turned to look at Timmy, whose jaw had dropped. All Santas had the ability to, say, unearth truths and secrets, but none of the Santas Timmy had worked with would have been able to pop open that lock–or at least not with such ease. This…did not bode well. He hurried his own pace, trying to catch up before Stanta could get inside, but–curse his tiny legs!–Stanta opened the door wide and stepped inside, where he found a destroyed workshop and two pigs rutting amongst the mess.
“I see,” Stanta said, as Timmy caught up to him in the doorway, “A rather odd thing to be storing, wouldn’t you say?”
“It’s complicated, and I can explain, but–”
“Shut up, Timmy,” Stanta said, and Timmy felt his mouth clamp up tight. Stanta sighed, and walked over to the pigs as they fucked, and laid a hand on each of them for a moment. They had been…people, it would seem, but who was a bit of a mystery. The animals in each of them had pushed most everything else out. One, the hog getting fucked, was nearly twice the size as the boar fucking him–though the boar’s cock was nearly a foot long. Still, there was something else in here, or perhaps, someone else. He looked around, but the entire room was a mess–still, one thing stood out to him, hanging on the wall–what looked like a human head and torso, the mouth misshapen into a funnel, and hung…quite low on the wall. A urinal for an elf, he supposed, though looking at it, it was clear the pigs had been using it as well, to some extent. He touched the flithy surface, and felt something stir within–some other poor soul, even further destroyed than the two pigs. Still, whatever had happened here, he knew he couldn’t trust Timmy to give him a full answer. “I think the tour’s over, for now,” Stanta said, “I’ll be confiscating a these for some personal research,” he added, grabbed the urinal, and tugged it free from the wall. The pipe, sticking out of the thing’s ass, began to wriggle wildly, like it was alive–he bound it up in a hand, and tucked the thing under his arm. With his other hand, he gave a wave, and two leashes flung from his leather wristband, securing themselves around the necks of both hogs. Timmy watched, still unable to speak, as Stanta dragged them both out of the room, and back to his house. A moment later, his mouth opened up again, and Timmy found the elves all staring at him, and muttering to one another.
This, Timmy knew, wasn’t good. A Santa this strong…Timmy hadn’t wanted to resort to the old tricks which had plagued the last few years and created so much strife, but if Stanta got the wrong idea, then Timmy was going to have to figure out some way to control him, for the sake of Christmas itself. He gathered the elves together, to discuss their options and, and consider contingencies. Still, if Stanta was as powerful an incarnation as he appeared to be, Timmy wasn’t quite sure there was much any of them could do, should Stanta come to the conclusion that the elves were his enemies.
Bracken's Corner 